


your pulse in my ears

by labocat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sex Pollen, Sex in a Car, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Next on the list of Peter's suit upgrades: nanobots, integrating new web fluids, and an improved mask filter to combat aphrodisiacs.





	your pulse in my ears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



> Notes on events: Endgame went differently, Peter is 17, and the garage definitely does not have cameras.

Next up on the list of upgrades would be an improved filter so that situations like this could be avoided.

_This_ , of course, being Peter in the passenger seat of his car, twisting and shifting like he couldn’t get comfortable on a seat Tony had paid tens of thousands of dollars to upgrade to ensure that it was, and panting with small noises interspersed that was making paying attention to the road entirely too difficult. He _could_ turn on autopilot, but that would mean his hands would be free. And as his conscience was currently yelling at him, it was very important that his hands not be free and his attention be occupied. 

FRIDAY had already run diagnostics on the compound, one that had been aerosolized into a gas and was being passed around clubs as an aphrodisiac, intended to last the whole night. But of course, the kid’s sped-up metabolism had activated too much, too quickly when the rack of canisters had fallen over and burst open. Tony could only hope that’d mean the kid would burn through it all the faster, but right now first priority was getting Peter out of there and back to a safe environment as quickly as possible with as little physical contact as possible.

So here he was, trying desperately to keep his eyes on the road instead of the way Peter’s suit left nothing to the imagination, though if he were being honest with himself, his imagination was already far ahead of the game on that front. 

“Hold on kid, we’re almost there,” Tony said into a quiet moment, instantly regretting it as he heard Peter’s bitten-off moans anew and could see the way his hands were clenched on the seat in an effort not to touch himself. Alright then, no talking. He was deep enough in this hell already, but then again, when had he started turning away from a damning decision?

_When it threatens someone you care about_ his brain whispered and instead of confronting that thought, he simply drove faster, not letting himself think of anything but the road in front of him until they reached the garage of the compound.

Getting Peter into the car had been difficult enough, an armful of oversensitized, squirming teenager, his build belying the strength and muscles underneath the suit, that damned suit Tony had made skintight for some stupid reason like aerodynamics or portability or maneuverability or something that definitely did not matter when at that moment it meant he could feel each twitch, each flex, could feel the heat of his body through it. Getting Peter out of the car was going to be near impossible. Each time he tried to touch the kid, he recoiled from Tony’s touch before pressing almost instantly back into it, the drug clearly overriding his instincts. Thinking about any other reason was unfair to Peter, who already had to have been a mess of hormones even before the compound had taken hold.

He looked overheated, his face flushed dark and his eyes closed. His breathing had evened out, maybe, but it was still coming in short, hitched breaths so Tony couldn’t call it an improvement.

Standing around here weighing the impact of his actions wasn’t going to do Peter any good, however. Though just as he was about to grit his teeth and pick Peter up, steeling himself against what would inevitably be cries of oversensitivity - and boy were all these noises going to be starring in his cursed dreams later - he heard something that stopped him in his tracks.

“Mr. Stark, please.”

The words were soft, breathy and barely audible over Peter’s panting and the pounding of Tony’s heart in his ears, but then Peter repeated them, and Tony felt it all stop.

“Please what, kid - I know this isn’t comfortable, but I’ve gotta get you upstairs and for that I’ve got to touch you—”

“That, please. Touch me.”

“Pete…”

“Know...what I’m...asking,” Peter rasped out, opening his eyes with clear effort, but the determination there was what pinned Tony in place. It was the same determination he’d seen on the ship, hurtling towards Titan, towards the moment everything had changed, and in his heart he knew that if Peter asked him again with that look in his eyes, there’d be no avoiding that end. 

“I want this - wanted it - please don’t make me ask again,” Peter said, summoning coherence from whatever deep well of amazing stubbornness and resilience had empowered him to become Spider-Man in the first place, and Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d already said please again.

It was the work of a moment to shift the seat back, tilt it back so that it was almost laying flat, though more than a moment to fold his body into the space there, knees and back protesting, but the look in Peter’s eyes made it all worth it.

“Hold on Pete, I’ve got you.” Tony ran his hands over Peter’s legs, up towards the outline of the erection at their junction, half looking for a opening and half marvelling that this was happening with the word “wanted” echoing in his head. As soon as his hand actually traced the shape of Peter’s cock, straining at the suit, Peter’s head fell back as he came with a cry so loud it actually echoed throughout the garage.

It didn’t seem to help matters at all, if the hardness still under Tony’s hand was any indication, but Peter seemed better able to withstand Tony’s touch now. Seriously though, where was any opening? Nanobot suit was going on the list of upgrades, and the problem of where they’d be stored was a problem for when Tony didn’t have Peter pushing into his hand, his own hands clasped tight around Tony’s arms and a string of sounds that might have been words falling from his lips. They might have been instructions, might have been Tony’s name, but the tone of them was encouraging, no trace of hesitation or revulsion, so Tony didn’t even try to fight his own erection this time. Too much of his energy was going towards making this as good for Peter as he could - even if the kid had a crush on him, he probably hadn’t imagined something like this, some hazed handjob in a car with his suit still on. For his part, Tony had thought of beds, of lab benches, and okay, maybe the _hood_ of his car, but mostly as a prelude to anything else. But this was where they were, and it was up to Tony to make sure Peter didn’t regret wanting this.

Finally he found the opening in the back of the suit and peeled it off, prying Peter’s hands from his momentarially to strip him to at least the waist and marvel at how far down the deep red flush on Peter’s face went. He took another moment to be impressed that the kid had good enough bloodflow to support that dark of a flush _and_ the erection before him, but there was a task before him and so he applied himself with a gusto previously reserved for new projects.

Peter was still squirming in the seat, but his movements had a purpose now, so Tony tried to match them, tried to slow the kid down so that he could establish a rhythm to how his hand slid up and down Peter’s cock, slick with the remnants of his previous orgasm. It worked to a point - Tony knew he could do better if he were actually allowed to set the pace, but Peter seemed not to mind, judging by the way he panted and moaned, or by the way his cock gave another pulse, not quite coming, but stronger than the twitches before, leaking over Tony’s fingers wrapped around him. Tony wondered how much of this was Peter’s natural sensitivity and refraction period and how much was the drug, how many times he could make the kid come in a normal situation before he was a more of a panting mess than he was now. He thought about dinners and working in the lab, about allowing their debates and scientific back-and-forth to be the foreplay he’d been keeping them from being and for the first time, let himself wonder if Peter wanted that too. The kid deserved better, but everyone was allowed mistakes when they were young; now he guessed it was up to him to make sure this was less of a mistake and more of a learning experience for Peter.

Turning back to the matter at hand, as it were, Tony twisted said hand on an upstroke, setting Peter to coming again and, not caring how damned it made him, leaning forward to swallow Peter’s cry with a kiss.

Peter kissed back hungrily, his hands leaving their iron grip on Tony’s arms to wrap around Tony’s neck instead, not that Tony would have moved away if he could. Straddling Peter like this made him distinctly aware that the position meant his erection was only separated from Peter’s by his own pants, a fact which could be remedied.

He wasn’t going to do it, was going to be good - or at least, circumstantially good - until Peter spoke up - murmuring against Tony’s lips, totally unfair - and ruined his good intentions again. 

“Mr. Stark, Mr Stark, please. I want to feel you against me, c’mon.” He punctuated this with a hip roll that should have one, been impossible, and two, should definitely be illegal, but which absolutely obliterated Tony’s willpower to hold out. 

It would have been too much time to actually take his pants off, but Tony was old hat at just how far he needed to push his pants aside for something like this and soon his hand was wrapped around both of them, their combined groans filling the car and likely echoing in the garage, but Tony was past caring. Not when Peter had locked eyes with him and was finally matching his rhythm. Two orgasms had done the kid good, it seemed, if he could be this coherent. 

Tony hadn’t had a lot of expectations for lasting long, but he’d at least intended to last longer than the next orgasm he could wring out of Peter. Then Peter sat up to kiss him, and before Tony could be overly impressed with his core strength and initiative, he found himself not thinking of much else other than the press of Peter’s lips against his, the trail of Peter’s breath against his jaw, or the way his vision whited out as Peter found the sensitive spot just above his collarbone. His only consolation was that Peter came too, and along with it, the first signs of the drug leaving Peter’s system. His breaths evened out as Tony’s did, even though his cock didn’t soften entirely.

Almost as if he could sense Tony’s brain starting to boot back up and realize that with the drug receding, lucidity returned, Peter cut in with, “So, um, this has absolutely starred in like 30% of my fantasies, but I don’t think this seat was really built for this…” More than the way his cheeks flushed, Tony could tell Peter was blushing by the way his eyes cut downwards and Tony felt something in his chest give way. “Could...could we maybe continue this upstairs?”

It was a new concept to be the responsible adult in the relationship, which was the only thought that kept Tony from instantly scooping Peter up into his arms and heading to the elevator. A good experience. Right. The kid deserved the best he could give. So instead he sat back, groping behind him for the glovebox of the car in the hope of napkins stashed there and cleaned them up best he could, noting the flush that still stained Peter’s cheeks and giving himself the mental task of checking up on Peter’s vitals as soon as they got upstairs.

“Whatever you want, so long as you understand what you’re asking for.” _Let me have this, let me be selfish,_ Tony thought, as Peter’s eyes lit up. He stood, pulling them both from the car, astutely aware of the way Peter did not drop his hand once he was out, and let himself hope that maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster after all.

“I do, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, and while his breath had started to shorten again, his eyes still held that determination that Tony loved. He thought he’d exhausted his supply of second chances, but maybe, just maybe this was Peter’s second chance instead and who was he to argue.


End file.
